


The Tale of the Baozi

by Philosophercat



Category: Thunderbolt Fantasy 東離劍遊紀 (TV)
Genre: Food, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Other, hc_bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 10:13:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14668896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philosophercat/pseuds/Philosophercat
Summary: Sha Wu Sheng has a problem, and Shang Bu Huan reluctantly offers a solution.





	The Tale of the Baozi

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Metalkatt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metalkatt/gifts).



> Written for the DW hurt/comfort bingo, small fandom challenge for May 2018, with the 'low blood sugar' prompt.

The Tale of the Baozi

The swordsman returned from the village. It was unnaturally still as he stepped through the gate he had only recently entered. The hollow sound of the wind playing with overturned cups and bottles followed him as he made his way slowly, shakily down the winding hillside path that connected the village to the common road through the countryside. The air was heavy and cloying. The stench of vegetation threatened to turn his stomach. He stopped to press an elegant bone-white hand to his face and sighed. His steps were more confident when he resumed his walking.

“I simply like smoking,” said the gentleman reclining on one elbow at the top of a garden wall. “And that's it.” He tapped one foot in the air, playing with his long silvery hair with his free hand. There was little wind, yet his robes danced on it as if he carried his own atmosphere.

“Nothing with you is ever simple,” it was a resignation. The man in a long brown tunic and travelling clothes shot the gentleman a hard look. “Anyway, if you want to smoke yourself to death, I suppose it's your business,” he said waving his hand dismissively. He turned away. The gentleman smirked and looked after him with a bright-eyed interest beyond mere amusement.

The swordsman, still some distance above the pair, swooned on the path and stood a moment to steady himself. By chance, the traveller happened to look up at him. “Huh... Hey! What's wrong with you, then?” he called out. The swordsman continued walking until he had reached the bottom of the hill. “Really,” the man continued. “You don't look so good.”

The swordsman tried to shove him aside with his hand, but settled for stepping past, allowing his long cloak to snap behind him. He took up a low seat on a milestone near the garden wall where the gentleman was serenely smoking a long sculpted pipe like a fine tree branch bearing glass baubles. The two made an interesting contrast: one blissfully unconcerned, one withdrawn, both seemingly together in their separateness.

The traveller noted this to himself as he tilted his head. He blinked slowly and sighed. “Yare...” He strode over to the others, hiked up his long tunic and squatted on the road nearby. “Yare...” The swordsman peered at him from underneath his lashes while the gentleman only looked more pleased with himself, as if he had accomplished anything at all by simply sunning himself on the stonework.

“No welcome for us there,” said the traveller. It was not a question.

“Bu Huan,” said the gentleman. “So long as we have Sha Wu Sheng in our company, no door will be open to us!” He... laughed. The traveller- Shang Bu Huan- frowned up at him.

“You're crazy,” he concluded.

“No.” Bu Huan stared at the swordsman- Sha Wu Sheng- in surprise. Wu Sheng looked, so very slowly, barely moving his face, to glance at the gentleman. “He is Lin Xue Ya.” He left it there, as if he had said everything necessary. Bu Huan's eyes searched a moment, then he shrugged.

Wu Sheng swooned again, again raised a hand to his face. Bu Huan looked away. A low growl escaped his lips and he dug into his satchel, withdrawing a bundle tied in crisp white linen. He paused and inhaled over the package, his eyes drooping sleepily. A look of dismay flitted across his face, then he opened the bundle. In the centre was a small pile of savory steamed buns- still slightly warm. He looked at them solemnly, as if saying farewell to his beloved sons. Abruptly, he shoved one of the buns into Wu Sheng's lap.

The Swordsman's eyes widened as his lap began to fill with steamed buns. He looked crossly at Bu Huang and whet his tongue. But before he could say anything, Bu Huang had tore savagely into one of the remaining buns. He looked between his lap and enraptured companion before gingerly picking up one of the buns. “Where did you--”

Bu Huang tried to say something, or maybe he just grunted before choking down another mouthful of his pork bun. “Less talking, more eating. These buns deserve better treatment. Show some respect.” And another was sacrificed to Bu Huang's maw.

Wu Sheng lifted the bun to his mouth, closed his eyes, and ate in silence. He finished each bun completely, leaving not so much as a crumb. 

“The sun is setting,” observed Xue Ya in time. He hopped down from the wall with a graceful, bouncy movement. “I am going up and convince the people I am not with you.” He stretched. “I will have a good night's sleep, at least.” The other two did not watch him go but could hear him humming as he glided up the path.

Bu Huang looked out over the countryside. Now that the sun was setting, a pleasant breeze was picking up. He knew it would be more than cool come night. He looked back at Wu Sheng speculatively. The swordsman gently stroked the hair out of his pale face and looked past Bu Huang.

“That terrace,” he said pointing with his gaze. Bu Huang picked out the place and rose with a sigh. He adjusted his satchel and walked on to set up his shelter. Wu Sheng's eyes closed slowly, sleepily as he watched him go. Then he stood and followed.


End file.
